


marigold

by Relvich



Category: Danganronpa ∅, FanganAcademy Discord Roleplay
Genre: ANYWAY onto the most important tag, Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Fangan Ronpa: Fangan Academy, Gen, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEDI ILUSM 祝你生日快乐, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Mild Gore, and stuff, at least I think it's mild, definitely, hanahaki works different here y'all, kind of, like flowers! yknow, post-mortem messages, ur the best, what does that mean? you'll find out! eheh!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvich/pseuds/Relvich
Summary: The first time he presses record in this hellscape is not to sing. No, he can’t even do that anymore, can he?But that’s different. The first time he presses record in this place is to tell a boy he’s cute. Just - truth, yeah. Flirting a little bit, maybe. They were just kind of… dancing around each other, both clumsy with inexperience (ironic, when he’s a dancer).The next time he presses record is nothing at all like that, except it is. He doesn’t press send on this one, for one thing. No, he’s taking this to his grave. Heh, literally.Yeah, the next time he presses record may as well be his own obituary. Go figure, huh?
Relationships: Chun Meilin | Merlin Chun/Gotake Gakuto (Fangan Academy)
Kudos: 7
Collections: Round 2: Danganronpa: Deus Ex Machina





	1. belladonna, cypress, black roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for medi <3

He does not go silently into that goodnight. He rages, but it is not against the dying light, against the ravenous green eating its way out of him. He rages against the blood pooling in his lungs, in his throat, in his mouth. He is _not_ the Ultimate Bard. But he has words to say. It is not a woven story, it is no Disney fairy tale happy ending.

...It might be befitting of the brothers Grimm, though, the labyrinth in his head that kept him from saying anything growing a hedge counterpart in his blood, as he watches buds of lily of the valley sprout from his arms, his torso (he can’t move his neck any further to look, forced stock-straight by the, heh, stalks), as he feels the purple hyacinth burrow upwards through his skin and blossom in a halo in his hair, on his collarbone. ~~He knows his skin is breaking, he _feels_ his skin is breaking but it feels _right_ but it _hurts hurtshurts_ but also there is so much… _relief,_~~

“I’m - I’m sorry.” He falls into a coughing fit, bluebells and acacia and sweetpea falling - no, _torn_ from his esophagus as if each were thorned like roses, shredding him to pieces as he chokes on air and blood and _fragrance,_

 _“Fuck,_ I’m - I’m so sorry I couldn’t - t-tell you. I was - god, fuck, I was going to do it - that’s irony, huh?” he chuckles ~~it’s more like a whine~~ , then under his breath, “not as irony as my _mouth.”_

God, he’s wasting breath.

“H-hey. Just, I lo- I love you. It’s not your fau-”

And that’s when the green wins, and it erupts from his chest in a fully formed bush of flowers dripping gore, his death ringing greener than his eyes as he starts to fade away like petals on the wind, not even afforded the dignity of ashes.

* * *

~~sweetness, you’ve made my life complete; sorry, please forgive me; unconditional love; love concealed; goodbye, thank you for the lovely time.~~

~~it’s a pretty bouquet to be killed by, even as red droplets paint over his purple.~~


	2. Recording One

It’s… the announcement that starts him awake. Another murder. Another dead classmate, another… murderer.

It’s honestly depressing how used to this he’s getting. Again. The numb’s already setting in, already keeping him ~~un~~ comfortably disaffected as he pulls out his phone and thumbs to the group chat. All the usual panicked questions, and he’s about to toss in his own when -

A DM from Yuuna. His stomach sinks to think of whatever that could mean. At least she’s safe, but… fuck, he hates to think that she’d had to discover whoever it was that’d died this time.

He opens it. ~~He regrets doing so almost immediately.~~

^It’s… Mer’s cabin.^

His mind immediately goes blank. Suddenly, his deductive reasoning just... couldn’t ~~wouldn’t~~ work, because - that doesn’t mean _anything._ That can’t mean anything. There’s plenty of reasons he could be getting called to Mei’s cabin, right? No way it’s related, ~~look at the way she typed that, at the way she isn’t typing in the groupchat~~ , no way. It’s impossible because Merlin wouldn’t - Merlin _couldn’t -_

He bursts through his door without bothering to lock it, not even caring enough to exit his porch via the steps, no, he just hops the little fence on the side that’s so close it could be _connected_ to Mer’s, climbs up that way. The door’s closed, the curtains are drawn, and he ~~is starting to get a really bad feeling about this that he can’t shake, he wants to throw up~~ , is numb, nothing _means_ anything, there’s no way, there’s no way,

When he gets to the door, it’s already unlocked. ~~Of course it is, what with…~~

Whatever. The door’s unlocked, and… Yuuna and Martine and Junpei are already there, already… looking…

_~~He was dead when we found him-~~ _

Already… _looking_ at them. On the floor, in one of his oversized turtlenecks, not that that _matters,_ what _matters_ was that his eyes usually grass green are moldy grey and staring and he’s unnaturally still and his mouth is smeared with blood that looks like he’d been trying to wipe clean and it’s pooling on the ground where he - _he_ -

Lay dead. He’s. They’re _dead._

“No. No, no, it can’t be Mei. Guys, this isn’t funny, it - it _can’t_ be Mei, it-”

Junpei just looks away, Martine seems close to tears as she looks at him, looks at _them,_ and Yuuna… Yuuna’s eyes are as full of determination as ever, and she crosses the room to stand in front of him.

It takes everything he has not to shove her out of the way, not to sink to his knees in front of him, she’s _blocking his view he needs to see if he’s breathing ~~he. Isn't.~~_

“He… he was holding this when he died.” She hands him his phone, and it’s the last thing he cares about right now but he clings to it like a kid to a safety blanket. Wordlessly, eyes blank, he pushes past her, drops down to his level, just… looks. Not for… he’s not searching the _body._ He’s just… looking. At his best fucking friend in this place, ~~more, if he’d stop fucking lying to himself~~.

He hates how familiar this is.

“H-hey, Mei. Meilin. Fuck _. Fuck,_ I… I’m gonna find out who did this to us - who _did this_ to you, okay? You just - you just rest - you just rest here for now, okay? I-” _Fuck_ he _cannot_ start crying here, he won’t, except he _is,_ fat droplets running down his cheeks. He scrubs his face with a hand, pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll… I’ll…”

And like, in the movies and shit, they always have this tender scene where they close the corpse’s eyes, so it’s more like they’re sleeping, but there is _nothing._ Tender. _About_ this moment, as his anchor in this place’s been torn away and stripped of everything that made them _them,_ the warmth, the softness, gods, his _voice -_ even the purple of his hair’s gotten stuck in the red on the floor, and _they're not sleeping,_ and - 

And he has to go. He can’t do it, he can’t be the one that closes the curtains on him, can’t be the one that makes him never _see_ anything again ~~he hates losing vision his hypervigilance would kill him he’d have a panic attack-~~

“Hey - Gakuto. Before you go,” he’s already half out the door, “just… check the phone, okay? I… I looked, he was clutching it like it was his last - his last - _thought,_ and. You’ll want to look through it.”

He stops. Nods.

And then he’s gone.

* * *

_Poison. Poison_ again. _Someone **poisoned** \- _

He’s walking so fast he’s basically running, beelining for the kitchen just because - just because. If it was a food thing, then. Then yeah.

Yeah, but he can’t even think about that right now, just. He can’t, he can’t focus on this, not with the way all and none of his thoughts swirl together and both exist and not,

Honestly, the only fortunate thing that’s happened this morning is that he reaches the caf before his vision blurs out completely. He collapses into one of the chairs, head immediately coming down to rest in his hands as he tries to control his breathing, ~~aiming for an even four-four~~ , as the phone skitters out of his fingers to rest in front of him on the table. For a while, he just stares at it. Blank screen, endless possibilities floating in the black void of the glass. Right now it could be anything that waits for him on this thing, and right now that’s almost better. But that’s… that’s not…

They deserve better. If this was his last act, if he was trying to tell them something with this, it needs to be looked into. So he fires it up, almost starts crying again at the lock screen (it's still that _stupid_ picture of him in the birdhouse),

And… it doesn’t have a password anymore. Which is weird, because he knows it used to. Hell, he _knew_ the old password. But still… he opens it, and he’s immediately taken - not to the homepage, but to the voice recordings folder.

_0322audio.mp3_

_亲_ __0322.mp3_

_亲_ __0323.mp3_

_亲_ __0324.mp3..._

Just…on and on like that, lists of little snippets, presumably all of… Mer. What was he logging like this? What was he…

He presses play on the first one and _god_ his voice is like a balm to him, but it’s - it’s nothing, it’s that stupid little message from him that day with Yuuna, _gods, you’re cute,_ and even as it soothes it stabs him in the chest, takes root there, ~~‘cuz he’s never gonna hear that laugh again, and the fucking… compliment falls short when he’s- when _he’s-_~~

But the other ones, those were named. Those ones have to be… _something,_ he doesn’t even know.

He presses play on the second.

▶

“Oh, well this is just gonna be really awkward, innit. But I read that this will help with the pain an’ all, ‘til I can… yeah. Just.

Wow, I feel like I should be singing or something, no one ever just wants me for my thoughts, heheh. I mean I guess this is mostly for me… honestly? Okay, honestly I’m just glad I have someone I can trust. Kind of a huge dweeb, but he’s cool actually. Really sweet, but in the actual caring way? God I’m not used to that.

But yeah, that’s all I really have for now. Laters, I guess!”

■

_...Eventually, Rudy left, and a good thing too, because like… he couldn’t hold back whatever these chest pains were anymore, and they manifested in hacking coughs that wracked his whole body, that dropped him to the floor like a tidal wave on the ship would’ve, and that’s... not… normal, none of this is normal - the thought is strangely calm as he hunches on his knees on the ground, as he tasted… blood? Fuck, because he really needed_ more _shit on his plate right now. God, a killing game, and he’s having a heart attack or something while the doctor’s out of commission. Great, just his luck._

_...But then, blood wasn’t all he was tasting, was it? As the pain shoots through him, through his chest, his spine like climbing vines, he coughs again, and… and yeah, he hadn’t drank any jasmine today…_

_And no, he hadn’t. But when the coughing turned into gagging retches turned into a perfect little bloom in his hands, dotted only delicately by the blood it rested in,_

_Well, shit._

_Better than getting murdered, he guesses, as hysteria rises in him, as his breathing quickens ~~this can’t be happening he can’t~~_ ~~do _this he can’t_ feel _things, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t,_~~

_...He’s in a library. There’s... gotta be a way, ‘cuz he can’t do this to him, but he can’t… die like this, either. He - he promised. Promised he would…_ try _to live, anyway._

_He gets to work._


	3. Recording Two

That’s… what? What _is_ this? _Laters,_ he guesses. Laters. Because right, yeah. Because nothing that early on would’ve been a clue for a _murder investigation,_ because of _course_ he didn’t know he was gonna die on, what, the third day of the simulation?

What is he even doing? He's just… stalling, at this point. He needs to be looking for a culprit, not swooning over a voice he’ll never hear again -

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He _can_ hear it again, he’s got - this whole collection, this whole _composition_ of words like the notes on staff that they have yet to say to him ~~as if they’re really _for_ him, god this is a mess, here he is looking through his dead best friend’s phone like- _like-_~~

But if he has things left to say, then… then _god,_ he wants to hear them, he wants to not let go, to _never_ let go, but. He’s gonna need to, if he’s gonna have a clear head for this trial, for this investigation. He still doesn’t even _have_ anything yet, just this phone in a white-knuckle grip, just their body broken on their cabin floor.

Right. Investigation. He stands, manages to upend his chair as he does so - he winces at the noise but he doesn’t stop, if he stops his momentum now he’ll never get it back, he just keeps going. He just has to keep going…

_~~“We gotta keep going, right?”~~ _

He laughs more like a sob, shakes his head at the memory, shoulders open the door to the kitchenette. He… doesn’t even have any real reason to be here, honestly. He _suspects_ another poisoning, and he guesses here would be an easy place to… make something for that. God, he still hasn’t even considered who - which of their classmates would - _Merlin,_ of all people. They didn’t _have_ any clear enemies, of course there’s the - there’s the point that he’s.

That he _was._

That he was everyone’s friend, willing to help out literally anyone at any time, which makes them an. Easy target. And the Piper, which makes him a… a threat.

…He’s almost so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t see it, but this isn’t his first time around this block, so when there’s a suspicious little bundle sticking out from behind the sink, he takes it (which, maybe not the _best_ idea, for someone who isn’t wearing gloves, but he’s past the point of caring).

Holly. Just, little bunches of dried holly leaves with distressingly ripe berries still attached. What… what the fuck is that supposed to be? It’s… poisonous, he thinks, but not enough to - _to - ~~maybe it’s Ayaka or maybe she’s fucking with them all again-~~ _

So he needs to keep looking. He stuffs it in his pocket and leaves, head still in a whirlwind _who what where when **why** -_

He… needs to block some of this out. Feeling just a little weak for this, for _relying_ on this when they need him most ~~he needs to find who _did this_~~ _,_ he pulls out Mer’s phone again, connects his headphones to it. Presses play on the next recording as he walks.

▶

“Hey, me again. I mean of course it’s me, who else? Heheh.

This is… the day after the bonfire, I guess. The day Saki died. Just, uhm, woke up again. And, and like…”

[a sharp rush of breath, his voice trailing off to be softer...]

“yeah, okay. It’s okay. I’m okay…

I… d’you ever write a song and not really know what it’s about until later? I’ve written tons like that. Like, I wrote Fever when I was a kid, so, I guess I’d hope that was the case, heheh… But I have like… a ton of others that are softer and kinda lovely that I never felt for either. Well, I felt _for_ them I just didn’t - feel them.

That’s kinda… changing, lately. And it’s nice.

Kinda hurts though.”

[There is silence for a few beats.]

“I just really wish I could sing you something.”

■

_He wakes up first after they and Gakuto both just… succumb to exhaustion and the horror and the numbness the day. Wakes up tangled in him a little, actually, and honestly, he… kinda wishes he could just stay there maybe, just. Maybe fall back asleep, or just lay here for a while, in this quiet bubble of respite, the kind that only seem to get more and more scarce._

_But he has a growing feeling in his throat that says he can’t, and a burning just under their skin all the places that are touching him, so what really should’ve been a nice quiet moment is turned to a war against his own pain responses, against his goddamn_ excellent _self control, because fuck, if he wakes him up like this it’s all over. He… doesn’t want to do romance in a killing game, and they’re not even sure_ they _do either, and they can’t_ tell him, _and, and, and._

_And after yesterday... if he knew - if he thought he was causing them any sort of pain… yeah, no._

_So he extricates himself, trying very hard to cover up little coughs that are basically whimpers, so slowly, so delicately removing his arm from around him as he backs away._

_It’s probably impolite to lock himself in someone else’s bathroom, yeah? Yeah. But he doesn’t really have much choice at this point as the fire in their flesh comes to a boiling point. He bites his lip, holding back tears ~~a few manage to squeeze out of the corners~~ as he sits on the floor in front of the toilet, waiting for the scorching in his lungs to come up his throat in _some _form of floral agony, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t speak flower, an’ even with his research he doesn’t really know what to expect; he’s had a few petals and blooms by now but all of ‘em had been different, and,_

 _And that makes it_ really _hard to bite back his scream when they burst through his skin, instead._

 _He claps a hand over his mouth, sinking teeth into fingers as the leaves and berries appear, burrowing upward through his skin, blooming like his flesh is a garden - all along the inside of his right arm, where they’d been holding him. Holly. He doesn’t even know what that means, if this means_ anything, _it just_ hurts. _Little fangs of thorns rip his skin as they tear outward, pressure and sharpness and dull ache all mixing together in an indistinguishable flurry, and somehow? Somehow all of the perfect little red berries are left intact as they bloom, which, that shouldn’t feel like an insult, but somehow it does. Because of course it does. How_ dare _they be intact when - when he -_

 _When he so_ isn’t.

_At least he - at least he isn’t bleeding, he thinks, breathing heavy but hesitant and quiet as little whining back-of-the-throat sobs try to betray him. Seems like it’s over, for now. Seems like the - the plants, the roots are bandage enough. For now._

_Which means he shouldn’t trim them, get rid of them in here. Which means that he needs… to go, to get out before his blood overstays its welcome in his body. He doesn’t want to…_

_He doesn’t wanna just_ leave _him here… not… not after… and, honestly, he could use the comfort, he doesn’t want to be_ alone _here,_

_...He guesses he has to._

_Silently he lets himself out, making sure to lock his door behind him._

_He… he needs to go record something._

* * *

^ _hey, uhm, sorry about that one_ _亲，_ _i woke up and wasn’t feeling too well_ ^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holly - defense, safety; domestic bliss


	4. Recording Three

^ _hey, uhm, sorry about that one_ _亲，_ _i woke up and wasn’t feeling too well_ ^

^ _Oh, okay. You alright?_ ^

^ _yeah, i’d letcha know if it was anything srs :p_ ^

* * *

^Cut the radio silence. If we are to figure this out we need to know who it was. Junpei, Merlin, Martine, Yuuna Kajitani, Gotake, you've all been uncharacteristically quiet since the announcement. Who was it.^

^merlin^

^it was merlin are you happy^

He types it out with shaky fingers as he walks, shoves his phone back in his pocket. He’s not dealing with the aftermath of _that_ bomb right now, not when he only picked up his own phone to stop the buzzing interrupting Mer’s voice.

Which… Mer’s _voice_. He remembers that day, of course he does, god it was only a week ago, now. It was a little rough, but it was definitely after the point in the day where - where they took care of him after the whole Rin deal. Where he took care of them after, made them get water, stop torturing themself over their lack of singing voice.

He… said he’d recorded this just after he’d woken up again. That’s when he’d… that’s when he’d left his cabin, right? So - what, he snuck out of bed to record what - what honestly sounded kinda like a love letter? _Why?_ ~~To whom?~~

~~He _knows_ who it’s for, knows it in his gut twisting like knives, but for now this… this hurts less.~~

~~God, why wouldn’t he just _say_ anything...? If he couldn’t sing then just - _speak_ words like lyrics, or… or _something._~~

...Doesn’t matter, not right now, anyway. They’re gone, and…

And someone killed him. At this point he’s gotten where he’s going, pushes through the door, and… god, it’s so morbid, all the loose ropes and netting that still hangs in here. It’s not fair to call it a mockery, not really, since they're the one that put them up or whatever, just…

God, Nezumi died to lift a motive that’d been killing people, literally, figuratively. Merlin’s sibling _died_ for that, and then someone just turned around and… spat in their face, killed one of the people they’d been trying to _protect?_

He wishes he could still be surprised.

…Fuck this. He makes his way over to where the poison is stored _(ugh)_ , starts looking around for bottles missing, for bottles too light with dosages taken out, _something._

What he finds is another little dried bundle of flowers hidden behind the deadly, falling to the ground at his feet in an almost ethereal float. And he… doesn’t even know what these ones are, some purple thing with too-long stems and dangling heads. He takes a picture, looks it up, and.

Columbine. These ones are poisonous _too._ Why - what the _fuck?_ What does that even mean, how could anyone kill someone like - someone like _Mer_ by forcing flowers down their throat? He’s - he was too smart for that, unless the killer’s just toying with everyone ~~with _him_~~ at this point. But… nonetheless, the poison seems untampered with, for the most part, besides… the evidence planted in it that's in his hand. So…

Ayaka seems too _easy._ And she just pulled her bullshit with Nezumi, she _knows_ she’s suspicious unless she’s pulling off the world’s ballsiest double-bluff. He tucks the withered blooms into his pocket alongside the holly, actions gentle as his thoughts and the burning feeling in his chest rage in him. It’s too early to suspect, but what the fuck - who the fuck _else?_ This could easily be a framing, too, but - but -

 _Ugh._ None of this - none of this makes any _sense,_ and he needs to keep a cool head if he’s going to be able to solve this.

…He was good at calming him down in life. ~~He just wants to hear him again.~~

‘Sides, this is kinda… investigating with his ghost, it’s kind of morbid, but it’s _something._ He… he needs an anchor.

He presses play on the next one.

▶

“You know? You know I’ve gotten so caught up with keeping this secret from you I honestly forgot I was keeping another, and… god. _Fuck._

I… gotta tell you, don’t I. I mean, if I can’t tell you _this_ then I can at least let you know who I - who I am, I guess. Can you believe - I’m such a coward. It took me all day to even… come to this conclusion, and I… only could while I’m sitting here pretending to talk it out with you.

I mean… maybe it’ll make this easier, heheh! I mean, if it makes you hate me, right? That’ll, uh - Uh. Yeah. Maybe.

Anyway, uh… laters, I guess. Or not. Or… or not.”

■

_“All of you have secrets! And guess what! One of your lovely classmates will be getting yours.”_

_The words are like an off switch to their brain, in one ear and out, scrubbing him clean of all thought except danger and fear and_ panic _just like that, because,_

 _Because of course. Under all his sugar-sweet spun facade and smiles and plastic affectations that’s all he_ is, _just a stew of terror and conflict and raging waves; his mind the ship tossed from panic to panic in heartbeats too quick in handfuls grasped too tightly, and -_

_Right, he forgot. There is something else in him too, now._

_A garden of affections to fight affectation, thorns and vines, blossoms and blooms in equal parts lovely and disturbing and beautiful and deadly and now,_ now _they decide to make an appearance? In his panic, in the main hall_ _surrounded by everyone and Monokuma and they’re creeping up his throat, the vines, in a way that makes him_ gag, _that presses against his tongue and holds it in place and he can_ feel _roots spindly and slender start to snake through from the back of his tongue like tepid blunt daggers, not even affording him the dignity of temperature as they creep and crawl and -_

 _And_ break through _the flesh and muscle, and keep going, keep going downward as they tie his tongue to the bottom of his mouth_ literally, _as if he weren’t_ enough _metaphorically. He’d laugh if he could, hysteria bubbling in his throat as steady and strong as the plants, just. More erratic, faster, in stop-and-start bursts. Irrational time signatures etcetera etcetera, he has to count this out or he’ll scream except he_ can’t _he’s gagged and bound and he can’t, he can’t, he_ can’t -

 _They’ve been backing away, they realize. Now is when their back hits the wall and they have nowhere else to go, and coincidentally this is when the roots start growing upward and pierce the top of his tongue and_ blossom, _filling his mouth with petals and fragrance and it’s too much, and, and they’re suffocating they can’t breathe or speak or scream or call for help so instead they just whimper, muffled around his mouthful of pretty poison. At some point he’s started shaking his head frantically, dizzying himself as a counterpoint to the agony, adding water to the grease-fire of his panicked breathing._

 _"Hey, Mer...!" Gakuto’s followed them, because of course he has, of course. The one person he probably needs, ~~the one person he trusts~~ , the one person who _cannot see him like this, _not right now. He’s offering his hand. "Come on, we're gonna get through this."_

_…He’s too weak to refuse._

_So… he takes it, squeezes it like it’s his lifeline ~~because it is,~~ a reassurance, but also… _

_Uses it to brace himself. As they’re held, as they hold him back, he… after a one-two-three waltz count he_ rips _his tongue upward, tears the flesh of his mouth apart to free himself even as he damns, as he floods his mouth with metallic and painpainpain but at least now he can move again, at least now he could probably speak but if he does he’s_ sure _the ruined garden of feelings and torn nerves will pour out with the words._

 _He swallows, nearly chokes on mouthfuls of blood and petals and pain, ~~nearly starts coughing, and~~_ ~~oh, _the irony_~~ _,_ _but… but he manages. Then manages a nod._

 _“I - I, yeah.” His tongue still feels slow and wrong and every time it twitches in any direction it shoots pain through him, through the roots still buried inside, at the rips and tears worsening as he talks, but he_ has _to,_ _he refuses to be gagged anymore, “We, we are. We have to.”_

_He squeezes their hand back, tries to give him a strained smile, and… and that’s enough. That’s all he needs._

_…And then the bloodshed begins outside of himself, ~~Oh god Saki,~~ and… _

_Are they? Are they gonna get through this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> columbine - the emblem of deceived lovers, ingratitude, faithlessness


	5. plum blossoms - interlude

“Heh, yeah, whatever,  _ Meilin.” _

He… stops, steps faltering, freezing, hugging himself.  _ Meilin, plum blossom, forest.  _ A small smile paints his lips warm, a luxury lately against the cold of blood displaced.

“Hey, what’s… what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just, uhm. No one calls me that. Haven’t heard it in, uhm… three years, ‘least?”

“…What, your  _ name? _ It’s in your profile and everything.”

“I’m… well, I'm signed on by an English label, and saying I’m not on speaking terms with my parents would be, uhm. Putting it  _ lightly,  _ to say the least.”

A pause, one beat, two.

“…Wait, did I… did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just,” they run a hand through their hair, “I don’t know? It’s weird to hear it but I… want to. I think.”  _ Plum blossoms mean hope, perseverance. It makes something bloom in his chest that isn’t flowers, which, why does everything in his life taste of irony, now?  _ “It’s… nice. Just... weird when people I’m not close to do it, so. Guess that gives you one of very few tickets, heh.”

“Wait wait wait. So we’re _close_ now?” And his grin’s so bright he can barely look at it, but  _ god  _ he has to. The sunflower metaphor that pops into his head makes him sick to his stomach but it’s  _ right  _ and he can’t decide whether he resents that or not.

“I - I mean, not to be presumptuous or anything!” They squeak, face reddening. “It’s just that - it’s just that I -  _ trust  _ you, is, is all.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “And you call  _ me  _ cute, jeez…

I trust you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plum blossoms - hope, perseverance, beauty, purity, the transitoriness of life
> 
> ‘I trust you’ - I love you, I want to hear my name from your lips, I want you to have this part of me that’s real, I want you to speak my existence to life


End file.
